


The Indecisive Blues

by Angelwire



Series: From Artifice [10]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Confessions, F/F, Holding Hands, Hospitalization, Kissing, Serious Injuries, Trans Female Character, and some more personality/timeline swapping ooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwire/pseuds/Angelwire
Summary: You'd like to think Ortega needs your comfort now, after what happened. After what you did, more accurately. You can't make yourself stop, so at the very least, you can comfort her afterwards.Don't split on her now. Either literally or figuratively.
Relationships: Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Series: From Artifice [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499456
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Indecisive Blues

That telltale drawing of breath signals to you a moment before her eyes do that Ortega has woken up. All vitals stable, looks like. All good under the hood. That is, aside from the unfortunate(?) amount of damage you inflicted on her earlier. Thinking back now, you really can't understand your past restraint, but here you are.

To gloat over it.

Ortega's eyes flutter open, take note of another body in the room, and rise to make contact instinctually. You meet her gaze with a wide, predatory grin.

"Looks like my lovely Marshal is still among the living," you say in greetings.

"Wh-... Serra?" Her eyes regard you with an intensity that would have been disquieting, had you not already come this far.

"Not quite." You lean down, bending your spine, bringing the face of this infuriating woman closer. "I told you over and over again that she's dead, and you just never listened to me. Feeling up to listen now?"

Julia narrows her eyes. Oh, isn't that _wonderful_! She can't even bring herself to ask something as ignorant as 'what are you talking about' or whine 'Serra, you're making no sense!' Smart woman. Very, very smart. Always too smart for her own good. You can see it on her face, the fact that she already knows exactly what's going on. Her scrutiny nearly makes you giddy.

"That was such a good performance, earlier," you remark. Her gaze tracks you as you step away, closer to the various monitors they had her hooked up to. "On my part, that is." All vitals stable. All good under the hood. When not tampered with. "Why do you think I'm here, Julia?"

"Because you have a death wish?" spits Ortega, loosening a surprising level of vitriol. "The _Serra_ I knew always was far too reckless."

"Good guess, but no. You can call a nurse if you want. You won't be able to get help before it's too late."

"Is that a threat?"

Sighing, you make your way over to the cold, plastic chair you deigned to ignore earlier. Practicality aside, doing something to finish Ortega off in a situation like this... it just wouldn't be satisfying for you. You realize that now. But taunting her? That, you still positively _ache_ for. You ache for the way Ortega regards you are a threat, purely and simply, and you ache for the sense of power it gives you.

"I don't want to kill you, Julia. If I did, they wouldn't have been able to scrape you off the pavement where I _left you_." Even as you say that, you think back to the mood swings of earlier, the uncharacteristic sense of restraint. Ortega hopefully couldn't see through you back then, and even if she had begun to, this will hopefully seal the deal.

"Then you'd better give me a good reason not to cut this short and take my chances." You're not sure whether to be disappointed or not. Ortega is giving you a chance. Does that mean she's holding out hope? For you? Or maybe she's just posturing to try and get as much out of you as she can. Truly and genuinely, you hope for the latter.

"Don't you prefer knowing which girl you're tangoing with?"

"I prefer putting _pendejas_ like you behind bars," she retorts, "even if I know you."

"That's cold, Julia." So is your voice.

"What do you _want_ , Serra?"

Rolling your eyes, you stand back up again. You need to be close to properly emphasize things. Ortega tenses up as you approach again, alert for any overtly hostile actions, but you give her no reason for the caution. Her eyes flit down to your arm as it comes up into view, slowly. And then you place your palm on her wrist.

"I want to have some fun with you before it all comes crashing down," you admit, more tranquil than you've felt in ages. Your head quirks to the side just a smidgen. "I want you to know who it is you're hunting. And I want you to ruminate on exactly how much you failed me back then, from now until the moment you die. _That_ would make my heart _sing_ , Julia."

For once, you can't really tell what her reaction is. Or whether you're looking at her. You can't tell if she just hit the call button. You should leave, but you can't--

* * *

The backlash nearly topples you over. Unthinkingly, your hand retracts from the door handle, moves to press against your forehead. What the hell was that? A wish? An emotion? It felt... uncomfortably familiar, too. The way you imagined looking at the medical equipment keeps swimming among your thoughts, surfacing briefly over and over again. You could never actually think to _kill_ Ortega, not in a million years. Not even in weird daydreams like that. You couldn't, but the intrusive thoughts very well could.

Memories fade quickly, and within a matter of moments, you find yourself wondering whether you were simply being overwhelmed by the intrusions, by your own anxiety. Yes, maybe it was just that. A worry over being recognized. A worry over being seen as evil and callous and...

Grinding your teeth together, you open the door. Flick on a light. The hospital room looks exactly as you envisioned it would, just a few seconds ago - or, did you? You already picked out the memories of where Ortega was staying from one of the nurse's minds. Your current recognition is likely just another piece from the same source. Really. Stop overthinking and do the right thing, Serra. _Be_ Serra, for her.

The door shuts quietly behind you. For all the expensive medical equipment present, your gaze still centers solely on the patient - an unconscious Ortega. The woman that _you_ injured. The light already throws those wounds into sharp relief, and stepping closer almost feels like another breach of trust. After all, here you are again, getting close to her after already betraying her, even if she doesn't know it. (do you want to keep it that way?) You shouldn't be welcome here. You shouldn't be here, period, but you were always a bit too reckless for your own good. Ortega could easily attest to that.

Ortega. Her skin is bruised and scraped in numerous places, with several more serious cuts, all results from the mere act of battling you in your new suit. Her broken nose. Her shoulder, which you were worried about, seems fine; was it merely dislocated? How much did that hurt? Hopefully she was asleep by then. And her ribs... a few cracks, more than likely. You pull your arms in to hug yourself. Ward off the sight. Of course, you can't bring yourself to disgrace her by closing or averting your eyes. This is the end result of your rebirth. Hurting people. Hurting people you _care_ about.

You do care about her, right? You do. Those lingering notes of bitterness, you chase them away. Ortega made it clear that she cared about you, too, back when you reunited at the diner. And again, when she implored you to get professional help. Every opportunity, she makes it clear. It's not fair to even _briefly_ imagine things to be her fault. After all, she's the one hospitalized, here, and you're the one that did it to her. That, at least, does concretely signal how much you care for her. Your heart wouldn't ache this much just looking at her wounds if she meant nothing to you.

That, plus your earlier... _realizations_. Fuck. Right. Those. You nearly lost your entire cool back then, simply by admitting to what should have been an obvious fact. You literally _dreamt_ about her. Fantasized. Yearned. The whole enchilada. Even now, as you move over to the other side of the bed, you can't help but ignore the chair in favor of standing by Ortega's bedside, because you want to be as close as possible. You want to touch her. Hand raised, getting closer, scrutinizing her face to make sure she wasn't waking up. Safe. Safe enough to lay your palm over the woman's wrist. Somehow, that was one of the more familiar actions you'd taken thus far. Did this happen before?

Gently, your fingers wrap around her hand. Stroke the skin. She feels a bit too fragile to squeeze much harder than that, though you'd like to. It's only when that telltale influx of breath signals her wakefulness that you feel up to laying eyes on her face for more than half a second. As her eyelids flutter open, you give her the sweetest, softest smile you can muster.

"Good morning, sleepy," you croak out, the act of speech harder than you were anticipating. You swallow. "How're you feeling?"

Julia returns your smile. Nothing but affection in those eyes. "Serra."

"That's me."

"I'm alright, all things considered. Gotta admit, that newcomer did a number on me," she says. Her attempt at sitting up draws a wince onto her features, and you silently urge her to stay down, which she complies with for the moment.

"Newcomer? The villain on TV? I didn't see much of the action, I just rushed out the door as soon as I tuned in and saw you get injured like-" your voice cracks, "like that. Um. Really, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I heal fast," smirks Julia, as self assured as ever.

"At least promise me you'll be giving yourself enough time to heal, for once," you squeeze her hand. "I don't wanna see you getting up, not in your condition."

Her eyes roll playfully. "You always worry about me like that. I'm telling you, _you're_ the reckless one."

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed, you are," you point out stubbornly, only to suffer the immediate pang of guilt that follows. You hope it doesn't show on your face.

"Not for long."

Your only response at that point is a drawn-out sigh. You know you're not about to win that argument with her, stubborn woman that she is. Reluctantly, you pull your hand back in order to properly cross your arms, eyes averted for the moment. You can still register her gaze from the periphery of your vision. Something about it causes a sense of distinct discomfort to sink in.

"Hey, Serra?"

"Mm?"

"That villain..."

Your eyes return to her, expression molded into your best attempt at casualness. "Right, I'm still curious. I mean, it's not often someone shows up who can do _this_ to you. Who were they? You said someone new?"

She nods. "Some _pendejo_ calling themself Eidolon."

"Ei-" you force a twitch. "You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately no." Julia is the one to break eye contact again, staring down at her own lap. "And they did their homework too. Kept calling me that horrible nickname," she managed to chuckle, briefly, before wincing again.

"Oh god, that was the worst," you chuckle along with her. "We really don't need any reruns of _that_ jackass."

"That's not what worries me, though."

"And what _does_ worry you?" You try not to feel it too deeply as your blood begins to chill, as your mind races with all the possible ways in which you might have slipped up earlier.

" _This_ Eidolon, they're a telepath."

This time, the twitch is natural, uncontrollable. Fuck. "What makes you say that? I mean, we both know the original had some weird predictive abilities that we never figured out, right? What if it's the same person, back for revenge or whatever?"

"No, I don't think so," Julia shakes her head. "It didn't feel like fighting _them_. It felt like... someone I knew." After an uncomfortable yet brief silence, she continues, "And in any case, there seemed to be evidence of mental tampering. That's undeniably telepathic, even if a predictive fighting style could be explained away by assuming the original returned."

"You're... you're right, that does seem like a logical conclusion." No use arguing against that any further. She's right, after all; you used your powers several times back there. Sloppy. In the moment you could barely keep yourself held together, contiguous - you couldn't think too hard about what the consequences would be. Now all you could do is hope not to appear too suspicious from now on.

Several seconds pass before Julia changes the subject with a sigh. "Look at me, dwelling on it like a sore loser. I'm sorry. Thank you, though."

"Mm? What are you thanking me for?"

"For being here. It means a lot," she says, offering you the warmth of another smile.

"What? Of course I'd be here, you idiot." As much as you'd like to return the smile, you don't. Can't. Instead, a grimace. "Do you know what it feels like, seeing you get injured like this? Seeing you hospitalized?"

"What do you mean? We've both seen the other injured before, haven't we?"

You shake your head, exhaling in frustration. "Not like _this_. Not when I'm- when I can't even save you." A lie. A bit of a truth? You can't make yourself stop, not here, not after all the preparations you've made. The promises. You're only alive because you think you still have a chance of pulling this off, taking revenge, righting the wrongs in this disgusting, fucked up world. So you _can't_ stop. You _can't_ simply save Ortega from yourself, not if she gets in your way. "How could I look at you like this and not be affected? I _care_ about you, for christ's sake!"

"Serra, I just didn't think-"

"What, you thought it would've been that easy to lose the feelings I had for you?"

"I... I guess I did. That day, when we first found each other again, you..." she falters, searching for something in your eyes. "I couldn't get a read. It was all too conflicting. I didn't know if you still thought about me like that, or if it was something you'd rather forget. I'm sorry."

"Well, I still feel that way. I've-" you swallow hard to free your throat, "I've dreamt of you, Julia. So many times. Even when I thought you betrayed me, you still showed up to kiss me in my dreams." In the less nightmarish ones, at least.

"Serra..."

In a moment of need, your hand reaches for hers again. Squeezes. She returns the gesture. The contact calms you in a way none of the previous touches could, and you exhale, grateful on some level to be making a confession like this. Even if things keep not making sense and your future success is increasingly jeopardized by the minute.

"I'm sorry, too, you know. For pulling away recently. For just... being so difficult, like I always am. And I'm sorry for not doing this sooner."

Banishing the last of your intrusive thoughts, you lean down to press a kiss into Julia's lips, for the first time in far too long.

**Author's Note:**

> my dialogue is shit my head hurts but at least i wrote something


End file.
